Bad For My Health The Gazette ReitaXRuki
by DearMyFriend
Summary: Every little thing annoys Ruki. He hates his job, hates his drunken friends that crash at his flat unannounced, and cant wait to enjoy his month long vacation. But what happens when Reita comes home from work sick and needs him the most? -fluff- ReiTuki
1. Chapter 1

I never thought that it would end like this. The taste of blood in my mouth was alarming, but more than that it was disgusting, like sucking on a penny; a coppery thick taste that made you want to vomit more than fret about how many teeth you had lost. Had I even lost any? The pain in my chest was nothing more than a dull ache, though I knew somewhere in the deep recesses' of my withering mind that it should be more crippling. Fear hadn't gripped me, the realization of inevitable death still beyond my sporadic thinking; I was calm, mildly bothered by my current predicament, yes, but serene and peaceful as I laid belly first on the pavement encrusted with tiny glittering pieces of glass. The urge to turn my head to see what had become of the rusted bucket that is my main vehicle left me when I found that none of my limbs were responding to anything that I was asking them to do. It's like he always said, "You're a poison, and sooner or later you're gonna be bad for your own health."

And right he was.

I've never considered myself a 'happy' person. I wouldn't say that I'm a depressing wretch, but I'm not all peace and love and save the whales either. I'm a sarcastic, bitter, angry, self-deluded fuck up who takes pleasure in slowly sucking all the warm fuzziness out of those that I happened to meet. But I'm not depressed. And that in and of itself is worth something. I'm not stupid enough to think that I've got it bad, there are plenty of sods out there without a job (though I hate mine more than all things fuzzy and cute), no friends (even though all of mine are annoyingly chipper), or even a place to live (Although everyone always finds their way to my flat, drunkenly might I add, and eats all my food). I haven't got it all that bad, but that doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it. Being grateful and happy are on two very opposite ends of the spectrum. Well, my spectrum at least.

December is the month that I'm usually laid off. My job (shitty as it is) cant afford to pay my broke arse until the second week of January when business picks back up again. The construction business isn't what I had always aspired to get into mind you, at one point in my life I had actually wanted to do great things, but construction paid the bills that a struggling musician couldn't. Begging the owner of the nightclub you just played at for table scraps wasn't exactly a kind of life to be proud of, so I opted for blue collared manual labor for minimal pay.

Like the little squirrel I was, hoarding all my acorns (Cash) away for the winter (Laid off time), I found that I could easily put my entire months rent aside for December and not have to worry about another mind-numbing job that would only sink me further into a state of self-deniably dangerous and over the top dramatic hate that would most likely cause my spontaneous combustion. Not a bad way to go, I would think. People would remember something like that.

Today is the first day of my month long vacation, and the first day of a house to myself. The thought was grand enough to rip a hysterical bubble of laughter from my throat before I was able to catch it and stuff it back down where it had come from. My house, all to myself. The thought was such a high I grabbed the button on my jeans and ripped it open, unzipped the zipper (Which had been unzipped already, much to my own dismay), and kicked off my jeans. I stood in the center of my living room in my boxers, my hands on my hips and I marveled at the freedom this one simple act had filled me with. Never since I had gotten my own place had I ever had the privacy to walk in my underwear unabashed. I was brazen, shameless, flagrant, immodest and probably some other things as well but I didn't care. This was _my_ house now. I could do whatever I wanted.

"Ru~!"

The front door creaked as it was pushed open and I flinched at the sound of the handle smashing against the foyer wall, again, like I knew it would. I had patched and painted that damn spot nearly fifteen times since Reita had moved in with me, and still he opened the door like a hellion. He was more ape than man, and that went up my arse sideways.

"How many times have I told you _not_ to open the door like that!" I called to him as my bubble of serenity in having the house to myself was burst, set on fire, and then promptly pissed upon. He was supposed to be at work still; I glanced down at my wristwatch and frowned. Reita usually worked the morning shift, six AM to about three PM and it was nearly eleven in the morning. That's nine hours to myself I was about to enjoy before I told him not to come home for a month. "What are you doing home so early?"

I padded across the living room towards the foyer where the tall blonde was removing his shoes sluggishly. With his head dipped I couldn't get a good look at his face, which meant that I couldn't gauge what mood he was in, which in turn meant that I couldn't make up my mind on weather or not I should shoo him right back out the way he had come.

Reita looked up as he slid his left foot free of his expensive black shoe and his face had lit up slightly. "What's this? It isn't my birthday already, is it?"

"Har. Har." I muttered and scratched myself for good measure.

"That's not very attractive."

"Good thing I'm not trying to impress anybody. What the hell are you doing home?"

Reita exhaled loudly, his cheeks slightly pink. A little niggling voice in the back of my head could already sense that he wasn't up to par, that voice suggesting that maybe I should make him some tea and spend the rest of the day on the couch watching movies until he felt better… and then that voice was squashed immediately and was replaced with an annoyed, aggravated, and quite unwilling room mate who knew he was about to be forced into playing nursemaid.

"Got sent home early. Got a bit of a fever, it seems."

He slid out of his other shoe and stepped into the kitchen where he immediately put the kettle on. I followed him silently, slightly shocked but mostly relieved that he hadn't asked me to do it. Usually when Reita was 'sick' he would beg and plead for me to do this for him or make that for him, and because it _was_ Reita, I would do it. Had anyone else asked me, I would have put my cigarette out in their eye. But just because I would do it, doesn't mean that I would be happy about it. Doesn't mean that I would ever do it again. On my own. Unprompted.

I watched him for the space of a breath before realizing that he hadn't put any water into the kettle before he had gone ahead and placed the wretched thing on the burner. I shoved him out of the way and grabbed the damned thing before he had sat there for days. And I would have let him, had a cup of tea not sounded so appealing. "You have to put water in it, you dolt."

Reita stared at me blankly before he nodded his head, bringing his long fingered hand to the bridge of his nose and giving it a good squeeze. He was really out of it. I grumbled under my breath, turning on the tap and sticking the kettle beneath it. "Go lay down on the couch, you're usless in the kitchen, Rei."

Without a word he slumped off back towards the foyer, looked down at his shoes, adjusted them so that they were straight, then staggered into the living room and half fell onto the couch with a huff. I managed to pull my eyes away from him to turn off the faucet and place the fresh pot of water on the stove. I grabbed the book of matches we usually used to light the burner and scraped it along the appropriate side, lifted the kettle and ignited the gas. The blue flame danced and sputtered but remained strong and, satisfied, I replaced the kettle back in its rightful place.

Reita rarely ever got _really_ sick, but when he did it didn't usually go away the next day. Once he had the bug, he had it for a good few weeks. My gut fell out my arse, right there in the middle of the kitchen and I considered braining him with the hot end of the kettle briefly before deciding to sate my murderous impulses with a cigarette instead. I reached into my jean pockets… oh wait… I looked down and grumbled. I had discarded those on the floor before Reita had come stumbling in with his sick self and disturbed my moment.

With my hands itching to take the kettle with me, I wandered back towards the living room where my nicotine fix was patiently awaiting me. Reita had his legs draped over the arm of the couch, arms haphazardly strewn above his head, toes wiggling, mouth hanging open with a stream of drool steadily running down the left side of his cheek. I silently fumed, I hated it when people leaned on the arms of furniture, and whether it was Reita or not it was simply just not allowed. I stomped over to him and snaked my arms under his armpits and dragged him onto the couch properly, only his feet resting on the arm now. Still annoying, but better. There wasn't much choice with someone so tall and too sick to carry to his own bed. Reita mumbled and his eyes opened lazily, face slack and dreamy. "I'm not feeling to hot, Ru."

My chest constricted slightly and I inwardly mentally squeezed my heart in embarrassment in an attempt to keep it from beating so wildly. What the hell was that all about? An unexplainable rage churned in my stomach like acid, eating away at the lining and making me want to puke. I swallowed imaginary bile and cuffed his ear, a tad harder than I had intended. "No shit. The flu has that kind of effect on people." I bent over and loosened his tie, gripping the fat end tightly and yanking it from around his slender neck. "Its not called getting 'sick' because its pleasant."

"Will you get me a blanket, please?" He closed his eyes, hair falling across his cheek. "I'm really cold…"

I grabbed the bottom of his white button down and pulled it free of his trousers. "I'll get you a blanket…" I grumbled and headed towards the closet where I kept the spares for when others decided to crash here too liquored up to drive home.

"No," He weakly gestured towards his room. "can I have mine?"

Who did he think I was? I was no one's god damned maid! I never let anyone get a hold on me and use me, I was the user! I told people what to do! I was angry and miserable so I had a valid reason to be a bitch if I so damn well pleased! But as I was thinking all these things the weight in my arms made me shudder. I looked down at the blankets now securely in my grasp and nearly moaned out loud. Why was it that I was such a sucker?

Reita smiled as I approached him, arms outstretched for his favorite comforter like a small child for his bottle. I hated kids. I wanted to scream, make the comment comparing him to a three year old but for some reason the insult stuck in my throat, my tongue turning thick and refusing to form the words I so badly wanted to say. I dropped one end of the comforter to the floor and gave it a good shake before I laid it across Reita's length.

"Thanks, Ru." He said with a sniffle, snuggling further under the blanket's warmth. "Really."

"Whatever." Was all I could manage as I grabbed my jeans from the floor and stepped into them lazily, but not before removing my cigarettes from the back pocket and placing one sweet, deadly, white stick in my mouth. I preferred to use matches to lighters to light my smokes; lighters always left the nasty butane aftertaste that made the taste buds on your tongue scream, unlike matches which didn't have quite a bite to them afterwards. The end of my cigarette flared up and I inhaled deeply, bitter smoke creeping down my throat, burning my lungs and exhaled with a sigh. My head swam in that familiar way that left me light headed every time I lit up for the first time of the day and I glanced over my shoulder.

Reita had his eyes open still, though I wasn't sure if he was really seeing me or not. I knew I should have gone over to feel his forehead, see how warm he felt and get him some medicine from the cabinet above the fridge but I stood where I was, looking back at him in silence. My mind was running a mile a minute; should I go back to the kitchen? Should I grab a puke bucket? Would he be able to get anything down if I made him toast? I really don't want to clean up puke if I don't have to.

"The kettle is done." He mumbled reaching up a hand from beneath the blankets and wiping the drool from the side of his mouth.

I blinked, the insistent shrill whistle from the kitchen breaking apart my thoughts and I looked down at the cigarette between my fingers and ashed it in the palm of my hand. Well, half of it had simply just burned on its own, that was depressing. Damn Reita for being sick.

Damn him to hell.

I walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the handle of the kettle and moved it over to the cool burner and turned off the gas on the other. The whistling faded pathetically until there was nothing but the ringing of silence in my own ears. I took a drag from my cigarette before poking it out in the sink and grabbing two porcelain white mugs from the counter beside the fridge. Pouring a generous amount of steaming water into each cup I grabbed an herbal teabag for Reita and sank it to the bottom of the cup with a finger while I grabbed another bag for myself and did the same. The clear water instantly turned a murky brown-green and I inhaled deeply, the warmth sending gooseflesh down my spine. Tea was one of the little guilty pleasures that could brighten my day when I hated the world.

Reita's eyes followed me as I came back into our living room and he tucked his legs to his chest to make room for me to sit beside him. I accepted his offer and carefully situated myself at the end of the couch and passed him his cup as he struggled to get up onto his elbows. He handed me the remote for the television in exchange for his tea and smiled his thanks.

I scowled and hit the power button, tearing my eyes away from his to watch the plasma screen blink to life. VH1 blared some reality tv show that I had no desire to watch, but before I could change the channel Reita's feet plopped down in my lap and he giggled. "I love this show."

Fucking shite.

I placed the remote on the arm of the couch and rested my left hand on top of my best friends foot, my other hand lifting my cup to my lips to take one scalding, delicious sip of tea. Reita's toes wiggled against the palm of my hand silently asking me to rub them, and before I could stop myself I was actually rubbing them gently with my fingers. It would be quite the asshole move on my part to stop when he was so sick, and I _was_ an asshole, but I would just tell him that he owed me one afterwards. Best not make him cry while he was so sick, there would be plenty of time for that later.

The girl on screen sobbed about how much she loved whatever dried up celebrity's show this was and about how much she loved him and I wished upon them all a fiery painful death. People actually watched this crap? I have a hard enough time dealing with my own twisted warped sense of reality, why would I care about some aging rock star with a growing beer gut's search for love? But by the time these thoughts left my head the two of us had been lethargically sitting in silence for two hours watching the mind numbingly drab drama that I despised so much.

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

But a part of me was actually a bit pleased, though I would never admit to it. Reita was the one person whom I could really relax with (when he wasn't jumping around and screaming like fifteen year old school girl), and our time together was (for the most part) enjoyable. He was my best friend. My only friend.

And I loved him.


	2. Chapter 2

Reita's coughing fits came more and more frequently as the night wore on, and even in the safety of my room with the door closed and the pillow over my head I could still hear him hacking in the next room. It quite literally broke my heart to hear him whimpering and hoarse in the living room, I had no choice but to get to my feet and storm out of the apartment, his weak and pathetic voice calling after me as I slammed the door in my wake. I was up already and there was no way that I was going to be getting any shut eye with Reita the way he was, so I opted to walk it off; this unexplainable rage that often boiled in my gut and threatened to take over my logical senses was beginning to get out of hand. I didn't like being bothered by a sick man's cough to the point where I had to leave the damned house to relax.

I stood in the hall alone impatiently slamming my finger on the down button of the elevator, teeth barred in annoyance, chest aching. The elevator never came when you needed the most. It was never fast enough if you were late, and it was always there when you never wanted to leave. How inconvenient. Perhaps I'll write an angry letter.

The elevator doors opened with a familiar 'ding' and I hurried inside the small room and exhaled as the doors closed before me, locking me inside the metal prison. I glared back at a million pallid reflections of myself in the mirrors of the elevator, an unfamiliar ghost of a man staring back with equally as much hate as I felt. Perhaps more. Red rimmed eyes blinked slowly as they looked right through me, accusing me of so many things and yet nothing at all. I hated elevators, and was relieved as it opened its doors only moments later and I stepped out hastily.

The door man in the main lobby of the apartment complex greeted me with a silent nod and I hurried past him out the front revolving doors into the freezing early morning air. I breathed deep, huge gulping gasping breaths of crisp air that burned my throat sweeter than any cigarette and made me light headed for a completely different reason. For the first time in months I had no desire to smoke; intoxicated by the smell of snow and burning wood in the distance.

_Breathe. _I reminded myself. _Breathe deep._

Self-denial is a sad and scary thing a man of my age can come to realize, like a terminal disease that makes you think about all the things that you should have done; It leaves you with a sick feeling of regret and disappointment. I'm twenty-seven years young, and in the moment I stepped out into the brisk winter night air I felt as though I had just been woken, but for real this time. My heart lurched painfully with the sudden realization that I had known for so long.

I had known Reita since sophomore year of high school. We had gone to middle school together and had never bothered to get to know one another, two completely different kids who wanted nothing to do with the other. Becoming friends in high school, we realized that it was how different we were that made us like each other so much. We had done the band thing for a few years, we had had dreams of making it big, would stay up all night and talk for hours about what the life in the spotlight was going to be like, how we were going to bask in it, be in magazines and date supermodels. Well, that was when I learned that in Reita's case, that would be _male_ supermodels.

Senior year he had come out to me, and to be quite honest, I didn't know how to react. Of course the first thing out of my mouth when I had been able to find my voice again was, "Do you like _me_?", and he had promptly laughed at me. He had said no, a lie that I didn't know at the time he had been harboring for years afterwards, and that was the first time in my life I was ever truly disappointed.

And then began my 'I'm not gay' phase, which turned into my 'I hate everything' phase, which eventually led me to this single point in time. My epiphany. My one aggrandizing moment of glory, batting away the elephant on my shoulders and releasing the pressure I've tried so hard to relieve in my chest. The love I felt for Reita wasn't a brotherly love I had thought it was for so many years. It was…

I blinked, a glaring light rising along the horizon momentarily blinding me; I brought my hand up to shield my eyes and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I had been walking for three hours, I could barely feel my toes any more. I took in my surroundings quickly trying to get my bearings straight when I noticed the small gas station I usually stopped at every morning on my way to work. That wasn't that far away from my apartment complex, half an hours drive, maybe an hour or so on foot. Had I been walking in circles this whole time? The thought of something hot to drink, weather it was shitty instant coffee or not, urged me on and I stepped over the curb and made my way across the parking lot.

A few heads turned towards me as I passed the pumps, mostly just bored with nothing else to stare at other than the pump itself demanding more and more money from them with each passing second. The thought made me grin, idiots. I spent maybe twenty-five dollars every week on gas, and that filled my damn tank. Sure my car was a hazard to myself and any other person on the road, but it got me where I needed to go. I didn't need a shiny new SUV with twenty inch rims that were nearly impossible to keep clean on these roads.

I stepped into the gas station and the teen behind the desk barely looked up from his comic book. I shoved my frozen hands in my pockets and waddled over to the coffee machine and grabbed myself a disgustingly weak cup from the pile. It hardly seemed plausible to me that any liquid I decided to fill the flimsy thing with wouldn't seep right through it drenching me and the floor with scalding, tasteless, bad coffee. I grumbled and placed it under the spout anyway and pulled the black lever down and watched the black liquid fill my cup. Bad or not, I needed something to keep me warm on the walk back.

"Ruki?"

I gave a start, but covered it quickly by glancing over my shoulder with a scowl. The man that stood behind me smiled shyly, his eyebrows arched up in question. I wracked my mind quickly trying to place a name to the face, I had never been good with names. His skin was smooth, sharp, as though he had been cut clean from a block of alabaster. His bleached hair shone sickly yellow in the fluorescent lights above, but I could tell that he must have it touched up frequently by a professional to hide his black roots. No Asian man had blonde hair that looked that natural.

"Its me, Uruha! From high school?"

Uruha. He had been in the music club, a year ahead of me. I had considered joining but had opted for playing after classes in my parents garage with Reita instead. I remembered him vaguely, and it slightly irked me that he could be so causal with me, like we had been good friends or something back then. We barely said two words to each other in the halls.

"Mmmph." I mumbled and turned back towards my cup.

Grabbing a cap that didn't quite fit right, I shoved it on my coffee and headed towards the counter to pay, dismissing Uruha without actually saying it out loud. I was in no mood to deal with a high school reunion of people I didn't exactly like. Or know for that matter.

It seemed he didn't quite get it, and I inwardly groaned as he followed me to the clerk. I slammed my cup on the counter top and slammed down a buck and a half before shoving myself through the front door. He was like a puppy, eagerly smiling at my heels waiting for me to show some kind of emotion I had no intention of showing in the first place.

"How have you been? You and Reita still living together?"

How have I been? Shitty. Still living with Reita? Of course… wait. How the flipping fuck did he know that Reita and I were living together? I faltered in my steps then, and arched an eyebrow at him. He smiled back at me, breath heaving in long white puffs as he shoved his gloved hands in his pockets. I didn't want to believe that Reita was having relations with other men, although I knew damn well that he had on more than one account, but looking at Uruha now I couldn't stop myself from imagining the two of them together… In my apartment.

I must have visibly blanched because the look on Uruha's face suddenly tuned into shock, then quickly faded to mild interest, then back to that angelic smile. He chuckled, covering his mouth with a delicate hand. I felt like screaming.

"Its not what you think, we see each other at the office every once in a great while!" He tittered.

My stomach turned flip-flops and I took a sip of coffee that toasted my taste buds. Gross.

"Mmph." Was all I could respond.

"Are you heading back home? Did you walk? Would you like a ride? I'm heading towards the East End, anyways."

Oh are you. I find it quite suspicious that you know I live on the East End. But I didn't say my suspicions out loud, I simply gave him a half-hearted shrug and turned to trek back across the parking lot. I wanted none of this. None.

"Mmph."

"Ruki, its cold. Let me give you a ride--"

"I'm Fucking fine, Uruha. Shove your expensive Hummer up your arse." I snarled over my shoulder and took another disgusting sip of coffee.

Why was it that no one could ever take the hint? I don't care. I don't want to know you, I didn't in high school, I don't now. Leave me with my frozen toes and get back to your life that _doesn't_ include me. Or Reita.

"I heard Reita went home sick yesterday. If you wont accept a ride from me, at least let him know that I hope he gets better soon." He called after me.

My heart lurched into my throat and I kept on without looking back at him or responding. I would relay the message, I wasn't that much of a twat, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't be kind about it. As if this day couldn't get any worse, suddenly I found that my toes were soggy. I paused after I had made it safely across the street and looked down at my sneakers. They were white, only moments before, now stained a disgusting yellow. I lifted my cup of coffee up to examine the bottom and found that I could see straight through to the grey sky above.

I should have known never to trust these flimsy things.


End file.
